Page 4 of The Wilder Widows

Hers wasn’t even close to Doris’s perfect technique, but she was right... neither was mine. We both looked over to Alice but saw the knitting needle and yarn untouched in her lap. Her hands were otherwise occupied by the martini she’d brought over in a thermos and poured into one of my glasses.

She set aside the untouched yarn and took a drink before answering our stares. “I’ll have one of the staff do it for me later.”

“Alice! It’s not supposed to be for your staff to do. It’s for you to learn!” Doris shook her knitting needle at her.

“If I want something knitted, I’ll just buy it.”

“But then you won’t learn how.” Doris held up her example again. “Don’t you want to learn how to do this?”

“Not even a little.” Alice scoffed and poured more of the martini from the silver thermos into her dwindling glass.

With a huff, Doris sat back. “Fine. Forget it. I give up. I’ve tried and tried, but you just aren’t interested. No more knitting lessons.”

“Whatever will we do?” Marge deadpanned.

Doris scrunched up her face and shoved her project into the small yarn basket she’d brought with her. It was smaller than a purse and had a hand-knit cover over it with a lace and scalloped trim she told us she’d custom created. Making our own matching yarn baskets was next on our lists of projects, and something none of us had any use for or desire to make.

This was my second week of Wilder Widows meetings and the third time they’d been at my house. Each time we got together, we filled the several hours we met with projects and time-sucks. With Doris in charge, we knitted and baked. Each time Marge was at the helm, we watched her ancient mother make Italian food, then sat around the table and ate it. At least at Alice’s house, we occupied our hours with massages and pedicures. Once again, it was my turn to entertain, but I had nothing to offer. I didn’t knit or bake. There was no one to rub us into comas. Other than marketing, I had no artistic talents or special skills, and there was no sense in teaching these ladies the art of closing a marketing deal. So, with my lack of skills to show, Doris stepped up with knitting.

Again.

While we sat in bored silence staring at the ceiling, I struggled to find the words to tell them this Wilder Widows club wasn’t for me. Knitting, baking, and walking around the neighborhood was not how I envisioned spending my golden years. The money I had inherited from my parents, and the money Bruce and I had saved, was more than enough to keep me comfortable for the rest of my days, but I never imagined being retired at sixty. I’d always thought I’d be a career woman until at least my seventies. But now, the thought of starting a new career didn’t inspire me the way it once did, and I felt lost with what I wanted to do with all my newfound free time. But the one thing I knew is this wasn’t it.

“See. If we don’t knit, there’s nothing to do,” Doris challenged after the silence went on too long.

“There is plenty to do other than knit, Doris,” Marge said.

“Like what?” I asked, genuinely interested.

Silence settled over us while everyone contemplated the answer.

“Nothing. That’s what’s left for us. Nothing,” Alice finally said. “I’ve got my money, my boy toys, and still... none of it matters. I’m bored senseless.”

“It’s just me and my mom. She cooks, and I eat.” Marge slumped forward. “I’ve got nothing to do either.”

“I miss having children and a husband to care for,” Doris answered, and a slight quiver shook her lower lip.

I wasn’t even sure what I missed, but I knew this wasn’t the answer to filling the void. “Is this really it for us?” I gestured to the knitting basket. “Our husbands die, and we spend the rest of our days visiting each other’s houses, knitting, and struggling to find something to do?”

“What’s wrong with knitting?” Doris stiffened up.

“It’s boring as hell,” Marge answered, mirroring my thoughts.

“Well, I happen to like it,” Doris spat back.

“Good for you, Doris.” Alice rolled her eyes. “So knit. But for God’s sake, stop trying to force us to do it.”

“Force you? I was just trying to give you something to do!”

“We’ll do anything as long as it isn’t knitting,” Alice said, then took another sip.

“Well, fine! I guess I’ll just go home and knit alone. Excuse me for thinking we needed to be here for each other.” Doris started to stand, but I rose first and stopped her.

“I wasn’t trying to offend anyone. Please don’t go, Doris.”

Stopping when my hand closed around her shoulder, she turned back to me. “I was just trying to help.”

“I know you were, Doris. Sit. Please. I’m sorry I offended you. It’s just... this isn’t what I expected to do with my retirement. I’m not really sure what I had planned, but I know it involved more excitement than knitting.”